


stars ignite

by carrotycake



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, F/F, Femslash, One Shot Collection, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, gays in space
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-26
Updated: 2018-02-19
Packaged: 2019-01-05 18:38:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12195459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carrotycake/pseuds/carrotycake
Summary: She is a princess, and her love is a soldier: it shouldn't work, but they make it happen. A collection of one-shots and drabbles centred around Allura and Hira.





	1. now is not the time

**Author's Note:**

> i promised happy times and fluff at the end of my last allura x hira fic, and i'm sorry to say....this is not that. however this is the place where i hope to put all my allura/hira oneshots so there will probably be fluffy stuff in the future! stay tuned, friends.
> 
> and a big thank you to everyone who commented/kudos'd my last allura x hira fic, it got a bigger response than i was honestly expecting and i am so so happy and grateful!!
> 
> edit: should probably say that this is set in the same sort-of AU as "to you, in ten thousand years": that Allura met Hira in this reality, before the war began and Altea was destroyed. you don't need to read my other fic but it might help with background and stuff!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time is running out for them both, so Allura takes what little comfort she can from Hira’s arms.

Allura dreams of stars, always. She travels the galaxy when she sleeps, faces and places blurring into a dizzy maelstrom of emotions and feelings. Tonight, she dreams of uncertainty, and she wakes with a gasp, beads of cold sweat running down her back.

She’s not in her chambers at home, and it takes her a second to re-adjust to her surroundings. The sleeping figure next to her reminds her, and - despite the fear crawling in her stomach, lingering from her nightmare - she smiles softly. In the dim light, her sleeping partner’s teal-coloured skin markings glow, spiralling patterns across HIra’s spine and around her arms. Allura herself has similar markings, pink ones, in the same places; but like all Alteans, the markings are as unique as the person, each one slightly different to the next.

Allura thinks it’s beautiful, the person lying next to her even more so. She lays down again, having sat bolt upright upon waking, and Hira stirs, half-asleep still.

“C’mere,” she mumbles, lazily stretching out an arm, beckoning for Allura to come closer. Allura doesn’t resist, how can she? Hira loops her arm around Allura’s waist, nuzzling into the back of her neck, and Allura sighs, feeling sleep tug at the edges of her consciousness once more.

 

She wakes again, and this time it’s morning, light filtering in through the small window in their rented hotel room. With one hand, she pushes her mass of silver hair out of her eyes, squinting at the time on the small clock on the bedside stand; it’s not as early as she thought, but it isn’t late enough yet to warrant getting out of bed and removing herself from Hira’s warmth.

Hira herself shifts, waking as well; she yawns noisily, stretching, cracking tired muscles. Allura rolls to face her, immediately feeling the loss of Hira’s body heat at her back. Hira notes her pained expression and snorts, reaching out to push a few stubborn strands of Allura’s hair away from her face.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

There’s many things that Allura should say, that she wants to say, that she  _ needs  _ to say, but for now she is content looking into Hira’s eyes, avoiding the rest of the day and what it will bring at all costs. They have one quintent left together before they return to their respective duties; not long enough, in other words, to say everything they need to say properly.

“You were having dreams again,” Hira says. It’s a statement, not a question. Allura drops her eyes, away from Hira’s gaze. She cares too much, the soldier; it would be easier for both of them if they both cared less, but that’s not how the universe works.

She nods. “Yes.”

“Same things as always?”

“You were there. Just - just out of my reach. I couldn’t save you.”

Hira sighs heavily, her expression worried. She pulls Allura to her in an embrace, her arms wrapped tightly around her. Hira does this when she doesn’t have the words; she isn’t eloquent and trained in the arts of fine conversation like Allura is, she’s raw and honest and doesn’t hide behind her emotions. Allura prefers it, she thinks, in a war that neither of them had anything to do with. It was proven long ago that diplomatic overtures weren’t going to work, as the Galran Empire’s fleets easily decimated all Altean ships that stood up to them.

Time is running out for them both, so Allura takes what little comfort she can from Hira’s arms.

“I wish there was - something I could do,” Hira says finally, her voice muffled a little as she speaks into Allura’s hair. Allura squeezes tighter.

“You’re already helping,” she murmurs. There’s a ghost of breath on her neck as Hira exhales softly.

"I love you.”

“You say that like it’s the last chance you’ll get to say it.”

“It might be, for all we know. And I do. Love you, that is. Whether I die of old age or next week, it’ll still be true.”

Allura frowns, mostly because she knows Hira is right.

“And I love  _ you _ , Hira. Don’t ever forget that.”

* * *

Daylight brought responsibilities, so Allura’s not surprised to see nineteen unread messages - sent over the course of the night - on her datapad when she unmutes it. Hira sits next to her, cross-legged, checking her own messages. They’re dressed, now, and they both sit quietly on the bed, knowing the time is running out and not knowing what to say. Allura busies herself with menial tasks, instead; she makes the bed and tucks the sheets under, packs her things back into her small holdall.

She nudges Hira gently. “Any news?” She says, nodding to Hira’s own datapad.

“We’ve lost the Fourth, Ninth, Twelfth and Thirty-Sixth Squadrons in the most recent encounter with the Galra. Managed to take out half of their attacking squadron in the process, but that’s it.”

“Oh, quiznak.”

“At this rate, we won’t have anybody left.” Hira says, matter-of-factly, not looking at Allura. “Sooner or later…”

“Don’t say that.” Allura stands abruptly, as if pacing will alleviate the pain of the truth. (It doesn’t.)

“The Galra are too strong! You know it as well as I do, Allura. They’re just too powerful.” Hira stands too, and she has the advantage of height, a full head height taller than Allura. “We’re running out of time.”

Allura doesn’t want to believe it, but she has to. She grips Hira’s collar tightly, instead, pressing her mouth to Hira’s, willing and open. Hira places her hands on Allura’s hips, bunching the fabric there into fists, pulling her closer.

It should be the other way around, Allura thinks; Hira has to go back out to the front lines and lay down her life, again and again. Allura, for all the hard work she’s done, is still the princess; she is still a hundred times safer than Hira, the common soldier, will ever be.

And Allura knows that Hira would never have it any other way, either; they are both as stubborn in that respect.

The kiss becomes a familiar heat in the pit of her stomach, and she has to pull away before it can become anything more. They don’t have time, the shuttle to take Hira back to the fleet is leaving in less than half a quintent. And yet, Hira tugs on her belt loops and sends them both tumbling onto the half-made bed.

Allura can’t shake the feeling that this will be the last time they see each other, so she distracts herself with Hira’s touch and the kisses that the soldier is currently pressing to her neck, wordless.

They have time for this, at least, if nothing else.


	2. fortune

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is fortunate, Hira thinks, that she does not have to share a battlefield with Allura.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello! what's this, an update?! uni has been kicking my ass and i really should be writing my dissertation right now,, but i can't ignore inspiration when it's been so sporadic recently!  
> so please enjoy this small helping of angst friends <3

It is fortunate, Hira thinks, that she does not have to share a battlefield with Allura. The Alteans had a proud, powerful defence force, but it was just that – defence. They had never anticipated all-out warfare with a military race such as the Galra, their once-allies. Anything the Alteans had, the Galra threw back at them with ten times the power, the ferocity.

Hira just feels lucky to be alive, at this point. She pauses, to catch her breath, and looks out across the battlefield. _This isn’t what I signed up for._ It used to be a pretty garden colony, with blue mountains and turquoise grass and lots of parks. Rich Alteans would have holiday homes down by the lakes, and the water was always sparkling and clear.

She has never visited in person, of course; but she’d seen the vids, every schoolchild on Altea had. The muddy, desolate wasteland that stretches out in front of her was none of the things that had been described. Crashed ships, Altean and Galran alike, burn thick black smoke in the distance. She sighs, wiping a grimy hand across her forehead, and turns to the ruins of her own ship. Half of her crew made it out alive. The other half – well, not everyone can be so lucky in war.

They had found a small outcropping of rocks to take shelter in, and Hira helps bandage up the wounded. This is new territory for them all; they’re used to space warfare, maybe a little close-quarters combat when enemies manage to get on board a ship, but nothing like _this._ Hira can’t help but feel exposed, out in the open like this. It’s currently winter on this planet, and she feels it. Her suit will help regulate temperature control to some extent, but it’s made for space. The grime and the dirt and the mud aren’t doing anything to help.

Not for the first time, she thinks of Allura. Allura, the love of her life. Safe, she hopes, on board the Castle of Lions. She didn’t know its current whereabouts; on the outbreak of war, King Alfor had sent away his palace to various unknown locations in aid of the war effort. Hira wonders if Allura thinks of her. She hopes not, if only to spare Allura from the grief of Hira’s inevitable demise at the hands of the Galra. But that’s not how the world works. _And you shouldn’t be so cynical_ , her inner voice reminds her. _There might yet be hope._

It’s funny how much her inner, more hopeful voice sounds just like Allura.

“Hey. Commander.” Hira tries not to flinch at the title; it’s new, and she knows she only received it because a new kind of Galran missile took out half of Command last week. She turns to look at the source of the voice.

Sasha, her once-jokey second-in-command kneels sombrely next to one of the junior cadets, propped up against the rock face. Hira watches as Sasha gently shuts the eyes of the cadet, shaking her head.

“Another one?” she says. She knows it sounds harsh, she does, but she’s just tired. They all are. Sasha merely nods, and Hira kneels next to her, putting a hand on her shoulder. “You did everything you could.”

“I know.” Sasha doesn’t say anything else, but Hira doesn’t miss the way her cheek markings fade with grief.

If Allura was here, she’d know what to say. Words of comfort, perhaps. Hira is barely coping herself; it is enough work to pretend to her comrades that she isn’t scared, isn’t _so afraid_ of what’s going to happen, that to try and offer any more than a few choice words of sympathy would be too much.

She leaves Sasha with the dead cadet, and moves away from the shelter of the rocks. They’d radioed for help as soon as they realised the ship was about to crash, but it’s been six hours and all of their supplies are amongst a burning, twisted heap of metal and rubble. Hira isn’t sure how much longer they are all going to last.

She thumbs open her communicator; it’s a little bashed, from the crash landing, but otherwise in full working order. Hira switches it on, waiting. Still waiting. There’s no-one on the other end of any of the receiving channels, that’s the problem. She can hear their emergency beacon, still going. It probably has enough backup power for another four hours, and then they’ll all go dark.

Hira sits. She’s wasted enough energy, standing, talking, making sure everyone is all right. They’re _not_ alright, no-one is, but that’s almost a secondary concern right now. So she sits, because there’s nothing else to do.

*

_“I miss you.”_

_“I miss you, too. Don’t get yourself killed, Hira.” Allura was furiously blinking tears out of her eyes, and Hira ached to reach out and comfort her. To hold her in her arms, like there wasn’t a war and only the two of them mattered. Probably would have, if Allura was in front of her and not several thousand light-years away, projected onto a vid-screen._

_She couldn’t even promise to stay alive, because such promises couldn’t be kept._

*

That was three months ago, now: twelve whole weeks of fighting and scrambling and not-dying. Non-stop. Hira wanted to say, “I’m trying my hardest, Allura,” but she couldn’t talk to Allura. In fact, no-one could talk to Allura, because she was the _princess_ so calls can be traced - even encrypted ones used for illicit affairs across stars - so only Allura herself could make outgoing calls and even then, they were short and to the point.

_Quiznak_ , she missed her.

She has nothing else to do, so she fiddles with her communicator. Flicks the dial with her thumb, back and forth, back and forth. Nothing but static.

And then- could it be...?

Hira almost laughs, because she’s definitely going to die here and this is just her brain playing tricks on her. Final comforts, to make her inevitable demise a bit easier, perhaps.

Because the noise she heard coming from the other side of the muddy plains, next to the mountains, was definitely not the royal Castleship, home to the lions of Voltron. It couldn’t be, because communications were down and they hadn’t activated their beacon in time.

_Surely not......?_

And then she’s scrambling up from her sitting position and running, as fast as her tired legs and damaged hardsuit will let her, because _the Castle is here and that means rescue, people!_ Hira slips into her military role like a glove and issues orders, get those injured on stretchers – whatever you can make stretchers out of, then – come on, you can walk, just stand up – and she sees the shuttle land close to their outcropping of rock and she’s not even _thinking_ about Allura because _dammit_ she has to save her unit –

But Allura is there, combat-ready, her long silver hair bound up in a thick bun, and she’s brought more Altean soldier with medical supplies and equipment, enough to get the rest of Hira’s squad on board and back to safety. And she’s getting stuck in, helping marines up into the shuttle, comforting them, handing out rations.

And all Hira can do is stare, stare in wonder, because now the woman she is in love with has _literally_ saved her life.

It is fortunate, she thinks, as she runs – no care for military protocol, it’s a fucking war – into Allura’s embrace, that she and Allura shared a battlefield, just this once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments & kudos always appreciated! and find me on tumblr @carrotycake if u wanna yell, as always ;D

**Author's Note:**

> if you want to yell about this pairing with me, feel free to hit me up on my tumblr, same username as here, or my personal account (itscuriousthing) <3


End file.
